Blog Poetry

The Meeting By Longfellow

After so long an absence
      At last we meet again:
Does the meeting give us pleasure,
      Or does it give us pain?

The tree of life has been shaken,
      And but few of us linger now,
Like the Prophet’s two or three berries
      In the top of the uttermost bough.

We cordially greet each other
      In the old, familiar tone;
And we think, though we do not say it,
      How old and gray he is grown!

We speak of a Merry Christmas
      And many a Happy New Year
But each in his heart is thinking
      Of those that are not here.

We speak of friends and their fortunes,
      And of what they did and said,
Till the dead alone seem living,
      And the living alone seem dead.

And at last we hardly distinguish
      Between the ghosts and the guests;
And a mist and shadow of sadness
      Steals over our merriest jests.

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